Chapter Three: The Thin Line
The office was silent except for the steady tapping of keys and the occasional rustle of paper. I sat behind Damon's massive desk, my fingers trembling slightly as I sorted through emails and appointment requests. The city's skyline glimmered behind him like a cold, unreachable dream.
Damon stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the street below as if he could will the world to obey him.
"You're slower than I expected," he said without turning.
I bit back a sharp retort. "Maybe I'm just adjusting."
He finally looked at me, eyes narrowing. "You have two choices, Lina. Impress me, or get out."
The weight of his words crushed me—but beneath it, something sparked. I wasn't going to be his victim. Not today.
"I'm here to work," I said firmly.
"Good." His voice dropped. "Because I don't tolerate dead weight."
That evening, the gala accident was no longer a single moment—it was a shadow that hung over every interaction. Damon's presence was like a blade, slicing through the air whenever he spoke to me or even looked my way.
But beneath his cold exterior, I caught glimpses of something else—a flicker of frustration, maybe even admiration. The way he hesitated once when I suggested a better scheduling method. The brief pause when he asked if I needed help with a difficult task.
I hated that I noticed.
---
Later that week, I found myself standing in the company cafeteria, a coffee in hand, when Damon appeared beside me. His presence made the room seem smaller, tighter.
"You shouldn't be here," I said, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide my surprise.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm here whenever I want."
We stood in silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Why are you really doing this?" I blurted out.
He looked at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Because I don't like losing control."
I shook my head. "This isn't control. It's punishment."
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But maybe it's also… a chance."
My heart pounded. Was this a truce or another trap?
---
The days passed, and the line between enemy and something else blurred. Damon's cold glares softened into reluctant respect. My defiance slowly turned into something I didn't want to admit—curiosity.
But one thing was certain: this misfortune was far from over. And neither of us was ready to lose.
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